Category Archives: Rose of Tralee

Growing up was wonderful, as my Grandmother was largely in part Irish. She was an O’Quinn before she married my Grandfather. My Grandmother used to talk about having royalty in her lineage, but as a child I really did not think much about it then.

My Grandmother’s name was Belle, and she was a most beautiful, regal, resplendent lady. She was short in stature – about 5’3. All of my female cousins used to “rave” about how beautiful her skin was – so flawless and timeless looking in appearance. My Grandmother was not fully dressed until she put on her “ear bobs” as she called them. I remember she used to wear a strand of pearls around her neck, and some type of “ear bobs” that had brilliant color to them – with golden outer edges. Does anyone recall those type of “ear bobs?” She had the most beautiful flowing silver hair and eyes of blue that could sweep anyone off of their feet.

Every Summer my sister and I, along with about five to six other cousins would spend a week (or two) with my Grandmother and Grandfather at their farm home out in the country. The most amazing thing I found about my Grandmother was the fact that she could stand at the kitchen stove and prepare a “different breakfast food” for each and every one of us. It did not matter to her what we wanted – she would prepare it with no questions asked…and of course with the MOST love anyone could dote on an individual or human being.

She always spoke using proper grammar and would correct every grandchild if we ever used improper English. She would make us state the correct word (and use in a sentence), but of course it was “always” done in love.

She may have had her “ear bobs” but she was a true gem! I miss her dearly. She lived to be 92.5 years old. Later in life she became blind due to macular degeneration. I will never forget the time I went to visit her one year while she was in the hospital and it was her birthday. I immediately handed her the birthday card I bought her, out of habit. It suddenly hit me like a brick that she could not see and a cousin gently took the card from her hand and read it to her. Tears came to my eyes and I had to hold them back. Again though she was sick and in the hospital, she still was fully dressed – “ear bobs” and all!

My Grandmother whose name was Belle was a “true” Belle indeed. She was beautiful not only on the outside, but her heart was beautiful as well. She never spoke a harsh or sharp word to anyone. She still is MY Irish Rose! The song below reminds me so much of my Grandmother, Belle…

Rose of Tralee (Irish Ballad)*

The pale moon was rising above the green mountains,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea;
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain,
That stands in the beautiful Vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet ’twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, ’twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
that made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

The cool shades of evening their mantle were spreading,
And Mary all smiling was listening to me;
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding,
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
Though lovely and fair as the Rose of the summer,
Yet ’twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, ’twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
that made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

In the far fields of India, ‘mid wars dreadful thunders,
Her voice was a solace and comfort to me,
But the chill hand of death has now rent us asunder,
I’m lonely tonight for the Rose of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet ’twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, ’twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning,
that made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee

St. Patrick’s Day is special for so many – perhaps you have fond memories of this day…

*The words of the song are credited to C. (or E.) Mordaunt Spencer and the music to Charles William Glover, but a story circulated in connection with the festival claims that the song was written by William Pembroke Mulchinock, a wealthy Protestant, out of love for Mary O’Connor, a poor Catholic maid in service to his parents